Your Fault
by Karu-DarkAngel
Summary: "It is your fault." Whenever they looked at him that was the sentence their eyes screamed. Oneshot. Mike/?


**A/N:** _This piece of fiction was inspired by "Closer to the Edge" from 30 Seconds To Mars. The quote on the top is also from the song. I own nothing and I don't earn anything either. Enjoy._

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~~x~~

_No, no, no, no. I will never forget. No, no. I will never regret. No, no. I will live my life._

~~x~~

"It is your fault."

Whenever they looked at him that was the sentence their eyes screamed. No one said it out loud, or at least no one had the guts to say it _to him_, but that was what the lot of them thought. In their opinion what had happened was his fault, and his fault only. If it wasn't for him things wouldn't have changed and everything would still be bright and happy.

Their eyes bore into his back when he walked through the hallways backstage, followed him whenever he turned a corner and when he walked into a room everyone turned to stare at him. _It is your fault, your fault entirely._ The accusation was always there, always present in the way his coworkers, his former friends, acted around him. They let him know that they blamed him for what he had done; most didn't even _try_ to understand his situation.

Every disgusted gaze, every look underlined with hatred told him that he should be embarrassed about what he had done, that he should apologize to all of them and then go crawl on the floor some more to try to atone for something he couldn't change now, wouldn't _ever_ change even if he had the chance.

They tried to make him feel guilty but he had sworn to himself that he would never feel guilty a long time ago. There was no reason to. He hadn't done anything wrong, not in his eyes at least. They may didn't like what he did, what he had done, but it was his life and therefore his choice only. Not a single one of them had _the right_ to condemn him, to judge him.

None of them knew _anything_ about his situation. No one had ever asked him if it had been hard for him, hard to admit to himself that he was _different_, that in some sense he would never live a normal life, that he would always be a disappointment for his parents, his family, his friends. They didn't ask and he didn't tell them. He didn't tell them just how hard it had been to confess something that had changed his life completely, something he had known would turn his beloved people and fans away from him for sure and would make people stare at him in disgust whenever he walked through the backstage area before a match.

It had been his decision and after he had made it he had sworn to himself that he would never regret what he had done this day. Their accusations and insults bounced off of him without having any effect at all, because he would be damned if he let them make him feel guilty about the best decision in his life. The opinion of others wouldn't ever dictate who _he_ was.

He knew that this probably was what they hated him most for, his will to not break down, to fight and not yield under anything they threw at him. If he had just broken down one day in tears and crawled into a corner like a beaten dog, hiding from them and licking his wounds, they would have been satisfied, because it would have meant that they had won in the end. But he didn't give up, he didn't cry, not in front of any of them at least, and he never looked away when they stared at him with hatred in their eyes.

Cheater, adulterer, whore, _faggot_… they had called Mike all of this and more, had uttered words that belied the façade of the good Christian men they pretended to be in front of cameras, fans and the general public.

There had been times when he had been the shadow of the strong man he was, reduced to a crying, sobbing, _hurt_ mess, cradled against his lover's chest in the safety of their hotel room at night. On some days he had wished for nothing more than not having to face them and their disgust, their hatred, but deep down he knew he couldn't just run away from the situation. Staying in bed one day would only make it harder to go out of the door on the next and knowing this he had never indulged in his fear.

If he had given up, they would have won and that was something he couldn't allow.

So Mike remained strong, took everything they threw at him and gave one or two snide remarks at times, only to have the satisfaction of looking in their frustrated faces when they couldn't come up with a smart reply. His lover always laughed at his display of _defiance_ as he called it and Mike could see how proud he was that he stood his ground against every single one of them. In the end he was the better man and they both knew it.

Yeah, a marriage had been annulled because of him, a good honest man had had to explain to his kids why Daddy was leaving Mommy and décor had been flying all around the house the day his lover had told his wife that he was leaving her, for a another man nonetheless. The divorce hadn't been pretty, not at all, but at least they behaved somewhat civil in each other's company now. It was easier for the children since their parents didn't scream at each other anymore the second they stepped into the same room.

The uproar of the community had been worse, _much worse_.

In had become quite common for wrestlers to have affairs, to get divorced at least once in their careers, but leaving for another man, leaving because you _were gay_, or at least bisexual, was something no one had ever heard of before.

People had always assumed that some of the guys were gay, that a few of them fucked each other backstage – how couldt they not with too few women and too much hot men on the rosters? Really _knowing_ that two male wrestlers indeed _fucked each other_, that one of them had even left his wife for his male lover, however had been totally another thing. Some fans were supportive. Most were not.

Mike and his lover had changed the business in some way. He personally thought that it was a change for the better, a chance for all of them to be more open about who they were and what they did. It turned out though that most of his colleagues didn't share his point of view, in their eyes he simply was a disgrace for the industry, a _manwhore_ who had managed to change a good man and worker into an ass-fucking faggot.

He never tried to change their opinion. Not because he didn't want to, but because he knew that they needed to notice the flaws in their logic by themselves. He could help them, explain, but in the end it was still their decision and not his. Never his.

Now they were stuck. Stuck because _they_ wouldn't accept who he was and because _he_ wouldn't say that he was sorry.

Ignoring the stares that followed his every step when he walked towards the catering area, Mike's icy blue eyes searched for the form of his lover. They immediately lit up when he found the older man sitting at a table alone, posture relaxed and two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

"Already taking a break?" he teased, walking up to the other man and leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Mike intended for the kiss to only last a few seconds but his lover apparently had other plans. Strong hands gripped his T-shirt by the collar and dragged him down until he was practically sitting in the other's lap. Before he knew it a tongue had worked its way into his mouth, stroking along his own and inviting him to respond to the sultry kiss.

When their lips finally parted Mike couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. His body relaxed into the other man's frame on its own accord, the stares and angry glances they received completely forgotten for the moment.

_This_ was why he had done everything he had … why he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Cerulean blue eyes locked with his own, the warmth and love in the older man's eyes making Mike's heart swell with love and pride. He would never, ever, be tired of that man. Impossible.

"I missed you." the words where nothing more than a sensual whisper against his skin, the elders lips morphing into a pout that Mike could only describe as _cute_.

"Missed you too."

He would never be able to forget the way they looked at him, the disgust and hate in their eyes, but he also wouldn't regret his choice, _ever_. He would simply live his life, taking whatever the next day would throw at him. That was who he was.

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_Any guesses who Mike's lover is? I have someone in mind, but im curious who you picture in the role._


End file.
